The Irish standard., 1887-07-02


kingdom of Westminster. James O'Kel-
ly deserves all honor for the way in
which he has served his coun-
try and his cause in Parlia-
ment, for one has but to look at
him to know how utterly distasteful the
Parliamentary life must be to such a
man and how miserably confined and
hampered his life must seem to him as
he goes so unfinchingly through the
monotonous routine of Parliamentary
duties AS we look at James O'Kelly
we cannot help wondering what term
that eminent English statesman would
find for such man if he applies to HIM
self the title of man of action.
Let US amuse ourselves for moment
by picturing the sort of life which in
Mr.. O'Kelly's mind might be fairly and
fitly characterized as one of action. Let
us imagine for moment that Mr..
OKelly is listening to an grafton by the
eminent English politician, and that
his mind drifts away from the subject
of discourse to the musing considera-
tion of what a man of actions life is
really like. He would probably think
of youth of fierce discomfort
in an oppressed country-a youth
in which wild longings for liberty was
somehow to be realized. He would
dream of service over seas beneath that
flag which time and time again has at
tracted the best and bravest blood in
Ireland to it's service. He would see
himself in the Foreign Legion. He
would see himself crossing seas again.
His vision would shift to the blazing
blue skies and the yellow sombre de-
serts of Africa and all the delights and
dangers of a desert war. 1t would pause
in that wonderful land of Oran where
Arab and Spanlard and Turk and
Frenchman have ruled, each in their
turn, in That strange city where all the
magic and all the madness of the East
seems to be blended together in one be-
wildering dream, where all the nation
alities of the world assemble, where all
tongues rise to heaven in bewildering
Babel, where the Arab in his white
burnous, the Spaniard in all the pic.
turesqueness Of his native, semi ORR
entail dress, the Hebrew in his gloomy
garb, the traveller in tweed and pith
helmet, and the soldiers and spahis of
the French army glittering and fantas-~
tic. and outside the wild Indigenous
tribes ceaselessly circling walt and
dream Of revenge upon the invader.
From the barbaric heat and beauty of
Oran, the memory of our musing senator
would shift now across the Atlantic to
that new Spain of Mexico, where the
blue blood Of stately hidalgos run now
in the same channels with the darker
blood of the strenuous Indian races.
Mexicans will tell you that they speak
the purest Spanish there, that they ride
better than all other peoples, that they
are the most hospitable, and much be-
sides. Certainly they showed themselves
good fighters as our dreamer knows.
Now come memories of Mexican mill
tary prisoner, of desperate dash for
liberty, Of drifting in dug-outs, and
finally of safe, if penniless, arrival in
Texas, in that marvellous land of ad-
venture, enterprise, and scoundreldom.
There is poet of to-day who sings
about Texas:
When have nothing left to squander,
And in foreign lands I wander,
In Texas or the wilds of Tennessee"
Our dreamer had certainly nothing left
to squander, for he had not a red cent
with him when he fetched up' in Tex
as. But his dreams drift him to New
York and to plans and pJottings for a
great deed which was attempted and
which failed, but which filed the world
with the shadow of it's name.
The vision changes again to France
and to the foreign legion once more and
to the long strife against the triumphant
German and to the surrender Of the most
famous city in the world. Then it crosses
the Atlantic once more, and the scene
shifts again to Cuba, to the Spanish
lines by ways of infinite peril to Mambi
land and the headquarters Of the in
surgent army, then to the Spanish lines
and to Spanish prison, and the daily
dread of death by yellow fever. Then
Spain again and freedom, and Brazil
and the companionship Of Emperors,